


My Cruel Friend is A Funeral Bell

by BlueDarknessIceHeart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anger, Canon-Typical Violence, D1 references, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Improper Use of Stasis, MC calls the Eliksni a dying race take that as you will, Memory Loss, Stasis, Threats of Violence, Threats of torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDarknessIceHeart/pseuds/BlueDarknessIceHeart
Summary: This has spoilers for Beyond Light + Season of the Hunt!Spider had the nerve to laugh.“How dare I what, little shadow? Give your empty shell of a lover a new home away from the rest of your kind?”A pale lip curled up, baring uncannily sharp teeth.“You have the fucking nerve to put on this little show in front of me? You truly think yourself so beyond reproach?”She swatted her ghost away from her head, the edges of his shell crackling with frost.
Relationships: Female Guardian/Crow, Female Guardian/Uldren Sov, Uldren Sov/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	My Cruel Friend is A Funeral Bell

**Author's Note:**

> If you've managed to get here and want context for Acantha & Uldren, check out Involute - and if you're curious about the "Sirae" mentioned, Fireteam Aeterno is your answer.  
> Title is from Funeral Bell by Phildel

She had the decency to wait for Uldren - _Crow_ \- to be out of view if not out of earshot. She stood, feeling Spider’s eyes on her, watching the guards tense from the corner of her eye as her nails dug into her palms until the leather of her gloves creaked. 

The temperature in the room had been dropping ever since she stepped in, and it surged to frigid as she moved forwards. 

“How _dare_ you.” 

Acantha was known for her rage and her ability to slip through shadows like the night itself, she was not known for a steady tone honed into a blade’s edge. 

She had not gone through everything for _this_ to be their fate. 

Ice rolled from her fingertips to encase the feet of the guards that lurched forwards. Spider had the nerve to laugh. 

“How dare I what, little shadow? Give your empty shell of a lover a new home away from the rest of your kind?” 

A pale lip curled up, baring uncannily sharp teeth. 

“You have the fucking nerve to put on this little show in front of me? You _truly_ think yourself so beyond reproach?”

She swatted her ghost away from her head, the edges of his shell crackling with frost. 

Acantha turned her bright white gaze onto the struggling guards and dragged her hand up, pulling the steadily creeping ice further up their bodies. 

“Do you truly think the whelps, the mere _scraps_ of your dying race can stop me if I choose to take you apart piece by piece?” 

The laugh that bubbled past her lips was uneven, a shattered cadence tinged with the edge of what had been driving her for so long. 

The hatred, the anger, the suffocating grief that had guided her hand had been all for naught, and it had beyond frayed her about the edges. 

“Do you think I wouldn’t plunge the Shore into complete and utter chaos for my own amusement? Do you think Zavala, that pathetic excuse for a commander and Awoken besides, could stay my hand?” 

She was slow in her movements, each click of her heels as she closed the distance between the two of them acting as a metronome, the timer to her patience steadily wearing thin. 

“Do you truly believe I wouldn’t drain you of ether for the high? Do you truly think I wouldn’t dock every limb you have, strip you for parts and forge something actually useful from what’s left?” 

Her hands were so familiar with fallen tech, with the scraps of metal left behind at battlefields, with twisting it all into something new and twice as deadly. 

Acantha watched him lean back, unfolding his hands from atop his stomach for once. 

“Maybe not, little shadow, but your precious Vanguard would put a pretty price on your head for it.” 

Her laugh was more of a sharp bark, bared teeth and disbelief. 

“Ikora and Zavala don’t talk anymore, Osiris is waiting for his death now, and the only one they have that could stop me is the Sirae bitch they can’t even pretend to have leashed. And she hates them about as much as I do.” 

\------------------------------------

It was so difficult, looking him in the eye. 

The metal pin just under her left collarbone felt heavier than anything else she’d carried before in all of her centuries. A gift, from when Uldren had first formed the Crows, had used it to ask her to stay at his side even then. 

“-But I...don’t remember you.” 

She hadn’t expected anything else. She knew what it was like to wake up after being pulled back into your body - everything was muddled or gone and permanently just out of reach.

Unless you were her, she supposed. She’d been thrown back into her body amidst the ship graveyard around Saturn, had had her memories come hurtling back into her with all too much ease. Had been reminded of her apparent sins by those that remembered her face. 

Acantha simply smiled, swallowed her heart back down out of her throat, and assured him that no one ever does. 

She took the lure out of his hands ever so gently, mindful not to let her fingers graze his, before letting her ghost transmat it out and her helmet in, giving Crow a thankful nod and whisking out the door in a blur of dark cloth and leather.

The quick tap of her boots against the metal floor paused just long enough for ice to crack across half of Spider’s mask, eyes hidden behind her visor. 

“Unrig Glint, or I start with an arm.”


End file.
